


Teacher

by hawkstout



Series: The Demon Inside Me [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Psychological Torture, Spoilers for Nightwing 93, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 10:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkstout/pseuds/hawkstout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the Demon Inside Me Series Oneshots: Dick is captured by Desmond, a demon who knows his name. Dick remembers his first encounter with a demon while he struggles with a decision that will stay with him for the rest of his life. </p><p>Heavily influenced by Nightwing 93</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teacher

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this fic was sort of hard and I felt like it was a bit confusing because Dick is going from one memory to the next so the main story line of what's happening in the present is all in blue (Cause Nightwing). Tell me how you guys feel about that. Does it help clarify what's going on or does it make the story look messy? 
> 
> This is a part of the Demon Inside Me Series. You can probably read it without the others, but you might be confused about all the ghost stuff going on. 
> 
> Note: A lot of the blue story line comes from Nightwing 93 in which Nightwing has his showdown with Blockbuster. Some of the dialogue is from that. It can be considered spolierific in an alternate universe sorta way.

“You’re a rare one. The energy you give off is tantalizing.”

A gigantic finger traced over his eyebrow down his cheek. His sob was muffled by the gag in his mouth. Pained blue eyes shot opened, tired and red rimmed. Thin wire bit into his skin across his neck, around his wrists and ankles. His legs, stomach, chest only marginally were protected by his clothing. Blood trailed slowly down where the wire had cut into him. His expression was dull with the bleakness of his situation. 

He felt cold fingers in his hair and it soothed him for a moment before he realized. His eyes widened and he caught the grin on Roland Desmond’s face. 

He shook his head frantically, but his pleading was stifled. He begged anyway. _Please, no, don’t!_

The ghost cooed softly trying to comfort him. 

Desmond chuckled.

_No! Run! Run!_

“Do you like being **_alone_** , Dick?” Desmond whispered. He was standing back now watching as the ghost nuzzled against his captive. Dick tried to shake his head again, but the wire sliced further.

The ghost was silent and worried. It wrapped its arms around him in a hug. It was trying to calm him down. It was cold and felt nice and oh God it was about to be—

Desmond pulled back and held his hand out, black energy poured around them. The ghost _screamed._

Dick was screaming now too. This was all his fault. The ghost flickered in and out of existence. It was trying to cling to Dick, it was asking—it was asking him to save it. 

And then it was silent and it was gone. 

Dick sobbed. Desmond grabbed him by the jaw and pulled out the gag and Dick wailed. That was seventeen, seventeen spirits obliterated, and all because—

“That’s the way to hurt you,” Desmond said viciously. He gripped Dick by the hair and the young man stopped screaming, his throat was raw, he was too tired to scream anymore.

“Just kill me,” he rasped, red rimmed blue eyes pleading, “Please, stop killing them. It’s me you want, it’s me you—”

A finger pushed against his lips and he quieted. 

“You so easily offer your life to me.” He chuckled teasing Dick’s lips, “And though you’d make a lovely sacrifice, there’s no victory in killing you outright. You throw yourself in the way of others all the time. Your life means little to you if you can save another. Such a protective spirit you hold. Don’t you see? Killing them is how I kill you.”

“Why?” Dick whimpered. 

“There’s no reason to harm a hair on your head, “The demon said in triumph, “But I’ll make sure you can’t save any of them. I make sure you watch them die. I’ll make sure you relive over and over your failure to save them and when your soul is dead,” He smiled fondly, “I will consume you.” He kissed the top of Dick’s head, inhaling his scent.

“Please stop.”

Please.

But he was alone now. He was alone again. 

God please.

Bruce…

-

“We don’t kill demons.” 

Bruce always seemed larger than life. He towered like a giant, grim and just. 

“Why not?” Dick asked curiously. He craned his neck to meet Bruce’s serious blue eyes. “We kill other monsters.” 

Bruce nodded. He took a knee and put a hand on the child’s shoulder. 

“Demons are not the same as the other kinds of creatures we face,” Bruce explained slowly, “They are easily the most dangerous.”

“Are they the most powerful?” Dick asked. Bruce shook his head. He stood and took the boy’s hand. They walked in the cool mid-autumn afternoon through a wooded path. Leaves fell as numerous as raindrops. The boy watched with quiet wonder, but forced himself to pay attention to Bruce’s answer. 

“No, they aren’t,” Bruce replied, “They can be, but power is not the most dangerous thing about them.” 

The boy reached out and caught a leaf twirling it around in his fingers. Bruce smiled briefly.

Dick looked up letting the leaf fall, “What’s the most dangerous thing about them then?”

“Killing is never to be taken lightly, even if it is a monster. Not all monsters are evil. You must always be sure that the life you take is justly taken.”

Dick nodded seriously, “Fight against horrors and corruption and never swerve from the path of light.” 

Bruce smiled. Dick always seemed to grow ten feet tall when he said the oath, their oath. 

“Yes,” he agreed, “The difference in demons is that they always have a hostage.” 

Dick frowned, “A hostage?”

“Yes. Demons are not of the physical. They come from a dark place. Some call it Hell. To walk upon the Earth they need a human host. Anything you do to the demon, you do to their host and unlike vengeful spirits they won’t leave after they accomplish their goals. As far as they’re concerned the body becomes theirs.”

Dick’s mouth dropped open, horrified. 

“So, if… so we can’t hurt it then, otherwise… then how do we fight them?” The boy asked. He clung to Bruce’s hand tugging it urgently. Bruce squeezed his hand back reassuringly. “Come with me.”

They continued down the wooded path and came up to a nice looking cabin. Dick suddenly stopped. A woman ran in front of them. She was tall, black, with worried brown eyes and curly black hair. She held up her hand.

“Don’t go in there, don’t child, it’s dangerous. Go back.” 

Bruce tugged his hand, but Dick wouldn’t take another step forward.

“What is it Dick?” Bruce knelt down still holding the child’s hand. 

“She says we shouldn’t go in there,” Dick whispered with big worried eyes.

“Who told you that?”

“The lady, she’s right there.”

Bruce closed his eyes briefly.

“She’s right there Bruce,” Dick insisted desperately, “In the yellow dress. She’s saying not to, why aren’t you—”

“There’s no one there Dick.” 

“She’s right there Bruce.” 

His eyes were fixed on empty space. Bruce’s grip on his hand tightened.

When the boy came into his house it had quickly become apparent how far his powers ran. Bruce had never seen anything like it. Dick wasn’t a medium. He had no control over the spirits he encountered and he saw more than shadows and orbs. Many people that experienced hauntings spoke about experiencing loved one’s ghosts as feelings. Small tingles to their five senses. They see orbs and shadows, they hear their voices, smell perfumes from long ago. And other supernatural creatures, some that could see ghosts, they saw them as globs of ectoplasm and energy. But Dick...

The boy saw … their true forms. Usually they looked like normal people, like now. Sometimes they were more… warped. Dick explained it as sometimes they weren’t people anymore. They were animals or things. He didn’t seem to quite understand why others couldn’t see the things he saw. He would often get frustrated when Bruce would pull him away from in depth conversations or games. He had trouble telling the difference at times. It was something he was trying to teach the boy. He had to be able to recognise the flesh from the spirit. 

Bruce didn’t have any mystical powers. He used talismans and equipment to detect the presence of the supernatural. 

“Bruce?” 

“There’s a demon in the cabin,” Bruce explained, “She must be worried it might try to hurt you.” 

That was another thing. These ghosts, they seemed protective, even affectionate of the boy. It disturbed him, worried him. Dick was trusting, naturally friendly. More than once Bruce found the boy on the edge of the Manor’s boundaries, farther than he should be because a ghost breathed in his ear. They may like him, can interact with him, but they wouldn’t be able to stop a monster or even a normal person from taking the boy. Despite their benign intentions they were still dangers. Bruce wished he could make use of a stronger ward to keep away all spirits, not just the harmful ones, but Dick became sullen or depressed whenever his ‘friends’ disappeared. 

“We shouldn’t go in then,” The boy said, “We should listen to her.”

“The demon’s subdued,” Bruce promised. He straightened trying to pull Dick toward the cabin, but Dick wouldn’t move. 

The woman shook her head, “No, please, don’t go in there. He’ll hurt you! You don’t underst--” 

“לפזר” Bruce bellowed holding up a talisman. Dick cried in horror when the woman disappeared.

“What did you do!?” Dick yelled. Bruce made a mental note. The new banishing talisman worked. 

“She’s okay, she’ll come back, but I need you focused,” Bruce said gravely, “The lesson I’m about to teach you is important. I asked her to leave.” 

“You—you banished her. She didn’t like it, it hurt her!” Dick protested, “She’s trying to help us, she says it’s not safe!”

“Dick! This is important!” 

The boy looked down a large frown on his face. “Sorry,” he said quietly. He trusted Bruce, he trusted Bruce more than anyone on the planet and he knew to take the paranormalist seriously. 

Bruce sighed. He was only twenty-five with a kid and it was hard at times. As gifted and loyal as Dick was, he was still only a child with a child’s delicate heart. 

“It’s okay,” He forced himself to be more gentle. To act more like his Father and Mother and Alfred and less like the Bat. He allowed Bruce Wayne to emerge from the hard shell of Batman that he crafted. He had to care for this boy as a man, not as a symbol. “I just want you to pay attention. I need to teach you this, do you know why?”

“To keep people safe?” Dick asked not meeting his mentor’s eyes. 

“To keep you safe,” Bruce corrected squeezing his shoulder, “Come on now.”

Dick nodded and followed after his guardian.

“Put on your mask. The first rule, never let a Demon know your name, if they know your name they have you in their power.” 

They opened the cabin door. A man was there, tied to a chair. He was in profile—

-

Don’t let them know your name, never let them know your name—

-

“Don’t you get it?” Desmond grinned coming closer to the exhausted young man, “I know your true name…Dick.” 

His mask shattered. 

No. No, no, no. This couldn’t happen! He attempted to stand, but Desmond raised a hand. He felt himself slid and then crash into the wall behind him.

“Oh no, you’re staying right there. Now that I know who you are I can do whatever I want with you.” Desmond stepped closer. He curled one finger up and Dick slid up the wall until he was standing and then going up further so that he was face to face with Desmond. The demon’s huge hand held him by the jaw. 

“You have pretty eyes,” Desmond carefully ran a gigantic finger under his right eye. 

Dick started quickly on a Buddhist banishing spell. 

“Silence,” The Demon commanded. Dick was still mouthing the words, but his voice was gone. His lips stopped moving his eyes widening.

Desmond chuckled, “I can do a lot with just one little name, Dick.”

-

No… that… that happened later—

-

“I’m just tidying up loose ends, but this gives me a perfect opportunity to talk to you about your future… which, as it happens, is going to look a lot like this.” 

Ms. Michaels lay on the floor her eyes dead, her soul gone. This is what his secret had cost her. If only she hadn’t dug deeper. If only she hadn’t seen behind the shadows.

“She’s dead!” Give me **one** good reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”

Roland Desmond. His gigantic form towered above him. Rage, hate, evil. 

“There isn’t one, Nightwing. Not one. That’s the best part. Not one reason to spare me except that I am a demon and killing my physical form would only bring the death of the human I possess… and you can’t have that.” 

The demon sent him flying through the hall. He flipped himself softening the blow. Ribs were cracked, but it was better than broken. Dick forced himself up. The Broken Necked Man helped to steady him. The Lost Girl squeezed his hand in encouragement.

Desmond grinned cruelly when he saw the ectoplasm starting to surround Nightwing. “That’s the secret, the essential truth of your nature. You could take every beating I could dish out because you have **absolutely** no regard for your personal safety, but the creatures around you? Well! That’s a different matter. Isn’t it?”

Desmond’s eyes darkened. Black energy crackled around them. The hair on Dick’s arms buzzed, but he didn’t feel any pain, but then he saw the ghosts. They screamed flickering in and out of reality like static on an old television. 

“What’s happening?” Dick demanded. He tried to take the Broken Necked Man by the shoulder, but his hand slipped through. And then he was gone and so was the Lost Girl. “Where are they? What did you do to them?!”

“Dead, obliterated, gone.” 

“No… you can’t… you can’t kill a ghost.” 

-

But Bruce didn’t kill her—

-

“Two-Face,” she murmured in his ear.

-

No … that was the wrong… order… wasn’t it?

-

The man slowly lifted his head. There was no light in the room. He was silhouetted by the light from the door.

“Please,” He rasped, “Help me, please help me—” Bruce flipped the light switch. The man grinned suddenly, and Dick almost screamed. It was awful. His face was… scarred, mutilated. 

“That was Harvey,” He was staring right at Dick, “Harv’s my good friend, but your Daddy’s hurting him.”

“He’s not my—”

“Quiet,” Bruce—Batman ordered, “You give it nothing.” 

“You should stop your Daddy from hurting him. What’s your name little boy?” The demon asked. He was fixed on the child at Batman’s side. Batman stepped in front of him his cape shielding the boy from hungry eyes. 

“Such energy…” The demon’s gaze shifted to Batman. “Such a special boy you have there, Batman.” 

“Batman,” Dick said tensely. 

“We’re safe Robin, it’s goading us. Trying to make us feel uncomfortable because that’s all it can do,” Batman reassured, “Because as I explained there is a power in names. We know this demon’s name, it means we control it.”

“What’s his name?”

“Janus.” 

“Little bird, come here,” The demon grinned widely, “Here little bird.”

Batman kept his grim façade, but he mentally frowned. The demon was completely focused on the child. Those that knew of Batman knew to fear, knew to beg, but it was as if he wasn’t even in the room. Could it be that the boy’s energy didn’t just affect spirits?

“Come here,” the demon said again, “Little Robin, or I’ll ask him to bring you to me.” 

Batman turned instantly. No, it wasn’t possible he couldn’t have been wro—

The man hit him directly to the temple sending him down into unconsciousness. Two faces… he had—

-

Bruce!

Bruce…

The spider crept along his shoulder, hairy legs tickling at his neck. He didn’t move. It was large, probably poisonous. It slipped slightly when it reached the blood, but quickly righted itself. He felt its soft legs pulling itself up by his ear. He was too tired, too defeated to care anymore. It crept up, tickling his ear, making him shudder. It grabbed at his hair eventually settling itself on the top of his head. 

“I can stop him,” The spider whispered. A woman, a tarantula. 

“Run,” He said, dazed, “He’ll kill you.”

The Tarantula kneaded her eight legs and then flattened herself, covering herself in his hair.

He had seen and experienced horrific things in his life. He wasn’t afraid of spiders, but having this giant hairy danger building a nest on his head made his skin itch.

“He already did,” She said, angry. The spider crawled further down toward the back of his head, “Let me kill him for you. Let me stop him.” 

“Ghosts can’t—”

-

Ghosts can’t…

-

“Ghosts can’t kill people,” Alfred explained patiently. They were alone in front of the fireplace. The boy held the old man’s hand. They were waiting for Bruce to come home. 

“I know,” Dick insisted, “So why does he banish them? Seal them? Send them away?”

Alfred looked into the fire, “Spirits were once people. You seem to bring out the best in them, but sometimes they become… unsettled. They become angry and they want revenge for a wrong done to them in life.”

“But they can’t hurt anyone,” Dick frowned, “The only person they can touch is me and they’d never hurt me—”

“Master Bruce protects you, just as your Father did before him. Your necklace.” 

Dick reached under his shirt grasping the carved wooden bird shape. Beside it was a smooth black stone shaped like a bat. One from his father one from his guardian. 

“Those talismans protect you from any spirit that would mean you harm. Only the ones with good intentions can approach.”

-

“What a nice necklace,” He felt the leather string snap off his neck, “Wouldn’t want to scare off any more of your friends would you?” Desmond asked, “I’m so looking forward to meeting them.

-

“But they can’t hurt other people, they go through them,” Dick said, “Bruce says they’re not solid for most people.” 

“In most cases,” Alfred conceded, “But those with vengeance in their heart can become powerful. They can possess people. They become like a demon.”

“What are Demons?”

“Master Bruce will explain those wretches to you one day.” 

-

Batman groaned softly. He was tied to the chair the demon had previously occupied. A sock was stuffed and taped in his mouth. He couldn’t speak. 

Two men completely identical save for the horrible scars running down the first one’s face. They stood over Robin who was on his knees hands on the back of his head. 

“What do we do with him?” The unscarred one asked. The scarred man grinned widely. His eye caught something propped up in the corner of the room. Bruce’s eyes followed his gaze.

An old wooden bat. 

“We make the pretty little thing sing,” the demon replied grasping the bat. He hefted it, testing its weight. “Then we mark it as mine.” He raised the bat above Dick’s head.

Dick dropped down trying to cover his head. 

“Stop!” The Unscarred Man shouted. To Bruce’s surprise, he did. 

The Scarred Man turned a nasty look on his face. He watched as the Unscarred Man flip a coin up and down.

“Luck,” The Unscarred Man said. The Scarred Man pulled back from the boy. 

“Luck,” He agreed. The coin was flipped over and the Scarred Man caught it. He covered it with his hand and he grinned down at the child shivering on the ground. 

“The clean face means you’re his, the scarred face means you’re mine.” 

Harvey Dent was a winner. A prosecutor who was determined to make Gotham a better place, but he was also a gambler and he was also ill. 

A shadow lurked beneath his clean cut façade. His own darkness was deep, even before the demon crawled out of hell. 

Bruce hadn’t seen that darkness. He had only seen the demon, the monster, but people can be monsters too. He had the wrong name, and he hadn’t realized the man was a willing participant with the monster.

The Scarred Man showed the boy the coin. A clean face. 

“Mine then,” The Unscarred Man beamed, “Stand up,” he ordered. Dick didn’t move. “Stand up or we kill Daddy, there’s a good boy.” 

Dick shakily stood. The Unscarred Man touched his mask and then ran along the seam down to the cheek. “Smooth baby skin,” He mused. He grasped the boy firmly by the shoulder pulling him towards the small kitchen area. The Scarred Man watched, jealous. 

“Best two out of three?” He suggested. 

The Unscarred Man pulled out a kitchen knife. He turned frowning. Now the Scarred Man was twitching, flipping the coin up and down. 

“I won him fair and square.” Dick tried to pull away, but the knife was suddenly in his face, “No boy.” The flat cold metal ran beside his ear and Dick stood perfectly still. 

“I’m not saying you didn’t,” The Scarred Man grunted twirling the bat in his hand, “But we could make it interesting.”

“Interesting?” The Unscarred Man pulled Dick towards the couch and took a seat. He sat the boy down beside him. Dick’s eyes were glued to the knife. 

“Best two out of three for the boy… and the Bat.” 

Unscarred’s eyes shifted towards Bruce. Bruce’s whited out eyes burned. 

“We don’t like Batman,” Unscarred mused. He looked back at Dick, “But I want him… that face… that face is—”

-

Confused. Alfred sighed, the boy still didn’t understand, “These spirits filled with hate and vengeance and anger do not only cling to the Earth as ghosts do, they become beings that can inflict their will on others.”

“Why don’t they do it all the time?” Dick asked. 

“They can’t,” And this was the point he was trying to get at, “They need permission. To be able to take over and have their vengeance or desire they need a willing host.”

“But ghosts can’t ask regular people.”

“Unless?”

“Unless they have a strong bond with the person, then they might be able to…” The boy frowned. “They could whisper and they might be heard.” 

Alfred nodded, “Exactly. And if that person loved them enough?”

Dick frowned and looked away, “Then they would do it. I mean if it were Mom and Dad… if they asked, I think I would probably say yes…” 

Alfred smiled sadly, “Yes, that’s the usual reaction. And so the host will be taken over by the vengeful spirit and become the spirit’s sin eater.” 

“Sin Eater?”

“For although they do not commit whatever vengeance the ghost might have planned, they still take that sin on themselves by allowing the ghost to enter.”

“According to who? God?”

Alfred smiled kindly, but shook his head, “No, according to your own humanity and conscience, Richard. It’s easy to stand by and do nothing while a life is being taken, especially if it is a life that might deserve to be extinguished. It’s afterward that’s hard. For a moment you lose sight of the preciousness of life, but it comes back and the guilt can destroy a person. A host has to live with seeing their body used as a tool of destruction. They have to come to terms that they let it happen. Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

Dick paused thinking about it, “Because they can ask me?”

Alfred nodded gravely, “Yes, they can ask you and I worry, Richard. I worry one day they will compel you to say yes.” 

-

But you can’t say yes, you can’t.

-

“Just let go,” The Tarantula whispered. How long had she been with him? Hiding her small form on the back of his head, her silky thread tangling in his hair. It soothed him and repulsed him. “I will avenge them, I will avenge _you_ he deserves to die, they _both_ deserve to die and when they die I can finally be free and _you_ can finally be free.” 

He felt numb, he felt so numb even as white hot pain burned wherever the wires scraped into his wounds and his head felt like it would explode at any moment and _there was a spider crawling on his head_. 

“Roland Desmond was a killer before he got a demon in him.” 

“Who…” Dick rasped, “Do you want to kill?”

“Both of them. Just close your eyes and relax, let me take over. You don’t have to do anything, step aside. All you have to do is get out of my way.” 

“But he won’t.” 

Dick’s blurry eyes could make out the giant silhouetted form of Desmond. He said nothing, he was beyond screaming and begging. Twenty-one ghosts had been obliterated by this creature. They were innocent, they had nothing to do with him, they only want to offer comfort and Desmond—and Desmond knew his name and he whispered in his ear poisoned promises that Dick would stay alive to see Bruce and Alfred and Tim die. He would kill Barbara, he would destroy the circus. He had already shattered so many living and dead. There were countless bodies on both of their hands. 

“Step aside,” The Tarantula repeated. 

“Forget it.” Desmond smiled widely, “Even **Roland Desmond’s** life is more important to him than his own.” The demon sneered triumphantly. He raised his hand. 

-

The coin fell. 

“Looks like I win,” the Scarred Man crowed. The Unscarred Man knocked over the dining table angrily. The Scarred Man picked up the bat and swung it over his shoulder. "Just know, I didn't kill you, Batman did." The bat came down on Dick’s shoulder, **hard.**

And again, and again and again.

-

“And that’s how I’ll take him apart. Loved one by loved one, innocent by innocent…he won’t kill and he won’t let a human die. He won’t even let an innocent monster die! I’ll keep doing it.”

-

And again, and again and again.

-

“It will never stop.”

_He’s right_

-

Blow after blow.

-

“It’s never going to stop.”

_It’s never going to stop._

-

His ribs had gone from cracked to broken.

-

“I can do this forever. All your little ghosts.”

_It’s never going to stop._

-

His shoulder was dislocated and his arm was broken. 

-

“And your family, the great Batman. Or should I say Bruce Wayne?”

_It won’t stop._

-

It all became fuzzy when the first blow to the head came.

-

“And even strangers that you might have touched.”

_**He** won’t stop._

“I will have you empty and I will revel in your deepest pain, it will be beautiful.”

_…Never gonna stop…_

-

“Two-Face,” The Lady in the Yellow Dress whispered as the blows rained down, “His name is Two-Face.” 

She’s not dead, Bruce didn’t kill her. 

_You can’t kill a ghost, why would he think she’s dead when she was right there?_

“TWO-FACE!! STOP IT!!”

-

_…Stop it…_

He closed his eyes. Felt the spider tensing as the black energy rose about to sweep her away. He let go. 

-

The men both stumbled back.

“Stop it!” The boy screamed curled into the fetal position. He could barely breathe. He wheezed and everything hurt. Suddenly Batman was standing. He was in his arms. Bruce. Bruce, Bruce, Bruce. 

“Do your worst then Batman, “And suddenly it was only one man. Half his face perfect, clean. The other half scarred. Two face, but it was only one person. “I did mine.” 

“Go to Hell, Two-Face,” Bruce commanded. The demon screamed and the man, Harvey Dent fell. Bruce knew it wasn’t only the demon, the man was a willing participant, but he didn’t have time. Dick was barely breathing. He was dying. Oh God, his son was dying. 

-

Dick was suddenly pushed out of his own body. He floated in space. Painless, numb. He watched her break the wires and he watched her move forward.

_Stop it…_

And he watched her put her fist through Roland Desmond’s chest.

_**STOP.** _

**Author's Note:**

> Abrupt unhappy endings are unhappy. Gah. But we all know he pieces himself together and eventually ends up having fun (Um... I guess that's one word for it) times raising Damian Wayne as seen in Part I. 
> 
> Midterms and final papers abound which is why the main story line is being put off for awhile, but I do plan to put up one-shots until time allows me to sink my teeth into the next part. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed.


End file.
